Monday night I went to sleep planning out this blog post. But Tuesday, life intervened, so this is a day late. Eighteen years ago yesterday my baby girl was brought into the priesthood of all believers. Love came down and claimed Caitlin as His own as she was baptized in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. I give thanks that He continues to sustain and nurture her in the faith, a faith which is apparent in the things she says and does. I look at her and see a young woman who confesses the name of her Saviour with no hesitation and who does not shrink from speaking the truth but who manages, better than many more "mature" Christians, to always speak it in love. I so admire that about her.
November 12, 1995, was a cold, cold day in Peoria. It wasn't like today in Chicago, where it is cold but clear and sunny. Instead it was overcast and icy. I remember being worried about my mother and my in-laws as they made their way down the sidewalk to church. Once we were inside the building, though, all thoughts of the cold disappeared as we welcomed Caitlin Marie into the Lord's family.
When he saw this picture Evan said, "Mom, you look young!" To which I said, "Evan, I was young!"
Trevor, Phillip, baby Caitlin and I along with our dear, sainted Pastor Freudenburg and his wife Jo.
I am really sorry I forgot to do this blog post yesterday. Earlier in the month I acknowledged Trevor's baptism on Facebook, and then last week I did a special post for Evan. When it hit me a little while ago that I had let Caitlin's day go by, I was disgusted with myself. Sometimes it stinks to be the middle child! Trevor is the firstborn, the oldest, the one away at college. Evan is the baby. Sometimes it seems as though Caitlin can get lost in the expanse between her brothers. But about yesterday's oversight my unassuming daughter was predictably understanding. That is another thing I admire about her. She expects so very little, accepting whatever comes with sincere appreciation.
By the way, that bit of life that intervened yesterday? It was called "selling the house." For those who may not know, our previous contract fell through. It looks, however, as though we now have another one. Having been burned once, I am not going to celebrate quite so boisterously this time around, but if all goes well we will be closing sometime after Christmas.